A Fit of the Vapors
by Shatterdoll
Summary: America misuses the term 'fit of the vapors' around a drunken England with mildly sexy results. M for a dash of lime.


Hello~ There are so many other things I need to be working on right now but I randomly thought of this and I really wanted to write it. Sorry for anyone waiting for something of actual substance -laughs- This is light and ridiculous and pretty short. Enjoy anyways?

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><p>How it was that America got dragged to bars with England only to watch his ass get drunk again and again was beyond him. It always followed the same cycle. They would go out to drink, England would have too much, start weeping, talk way too much about the past, and then America would have to drag him home or to whatever hotel they were staying at.<p>

Watching England weeping beside him on the couch, America wondered why he had thought drinking in England's house would create some sort of break in this pattern. Well, at least he wouldn't have to take him anywhere once he passed out. And there was less public shame involved on Arthur's end. That was something.

Though, for some reason, England was really going off more than usual. His babbling was completely impossible to understand anymore. Something about France or maybe even him or the church? Probably all of the above and then some.

America sighed, taking a drink from his own glass. "Geez, England. You've got a serious fit of the vapors going on."

The babbling, the tears, they cut off so abruptly the resulting silence left America feeling a bit disquieted. England turned to him slowly, gaze wavering as he tried to focus on America. "What... did you just say?"

America smiled awkwardly. "Uh... You've got a fit of the vapors going on? That means like, a case of hysteria, right?"

At least, that's what he thought it meant. England suddenly smirked and he got the feeling that he might have that wrong. When England spoke there was a slur to his words. "Is that an official diagnosis?"

What? America laughed, not understanding what was going on. He set his glass back down then looked back at England. At least he wasn't crying anymore. "Sure, why not. It's definitely the vapors!"

The next thing he knew England was grabbing his tie, pulling him close. "Then you best take care of the problem, _Doctor _Jones."

Doctor? What was he- And all of a sudden England was grabbing his hand and pressing it to his crotch. America's face flushed. "Wh-what are you doing, Arthur?"

England tightened his grip, pressing up against his hand. "What's the matter, Doctor? Aren't you going to be responsible, as you were the one who diagnosed the issue? Relieve me of my problem."

Had America totally missed something? He started to pull his hand away when England tugged on his tie again, pulling him closer. "Tut-tut, Doctor Jones. Is that any way to treat a patient?"

Before America could respond, England drunkenly kissed him. It was sloppy and more than a little clumsily. As he floundered to get his footing in this strange situation again, England continued to press up against his hand.

When they finally broke away America licked at saliva that had trailed behind. England's face was flushed with more than just alcohol and he found himself swallowing hard. Maybe... well it wasn't like he was taking advantage of him. He was initiating it and everything. "A-alright then. I'll take care of your...problem."

England grinned again and released his tie. "I knew I could count on you, Doctor."

America cleared his throat. He didn't know how he felt about all this 'doctor' business. Was it a weird kink or something? Arthur was a pretty kinky old man. America brought his other hand down to undo the button on England's pants, pulling down the zipper slowly. As he did England made a noise that made his heart pound a little faster.

For some reason America expected England to be wearing underwear with the union jack on it but they were a plain, dark blue. Not very interesting. He shouldn't be surprised, he guessed. He was contemplating whether he should just reach his hand in or pull them down when England sniggered.

"What's the matter, love? Nervous? Don't you want a peek at Big Ben?"

Oh god, is that what he called it? America really didn't need to know that. Yeah people called his 'Florida' but it wasn't like he had started that one himself. "I thought I was Doctor Jones."

"Right, right. So, _Doctor _Jones, you had best hurry up and take care of me." He shifted his hips, trying to get his pants down. He wasn't much help and America finally had to push his hands away so he could do it himself.

Once England's pants and boxers were pushed down to his thighs America stared down at him for a moment. Was he seriously doing this? Not that he minded but... England was starting to look impatient. "Oh bloody hell! Just touch me already!"

"Fine! You're a terrible patient, you know that _Mr. _Kirkland?" America stuck his tongue out.

Before England could complain anymore America finally reached down, fingers lightly tracing over him. It was like his whole body turned to jell-o in that instant and he slumped against America's arm. America continued to trace his fingers along him, gradually increasing the speed and pressure. England's eyes drooped to half mast, chewing lightly on his lower lip.

Once England was fully hard America focused on the head, caressing it and stroking the slit with his thumb. He was very aware of the way England's breath began to hitch. His own face was starting to feel pretty warm. His fingers moved down to the shaft, fingers tracing the vein along the bottom from base to tip.

England moaned softly, his hips shifting upwards. "Alfred-"

America pressed his lips to England's ear. "Uh-uh. Doctor, remember?"

Brief annoyance crossed England's face and then it melted to desire again. "Doctor, more..."

"More? Too much is never a good thing, Mr. Kirkland. All things in moderation." This was more fun than it should be.

"Like you should be one to talk you overindulging, greedy git!" England rocked his hips impatiently.

America couldn't help but laugh. Arthur was always Arthur. Even when he was being weird (which was often). "No need for that."

As America finally took England in hand and began to stroke him all of the irritation left his face again. England's body relaxed back against him and he grabbed the material of Alfred's sleeve. "That's more like it, Doctor."

"I hope seeing the doctor while drunk isn't a habit of yours or else I feel sorry for the poor guy."

England harrumphed but didn't say anything, closing his eyes and paying more attention to what his hand was doing.

Gradually America increased the speed of his hand, sometimes squeezing a little harder or making it gentler. From time to time England's hips moved upwards with poor coordination. His back arched as he let out a soft grunt. "A-h!"

America was starting to feel warm again, his body reacting at seeing England flushed and lost in his own pleasure. England clutched his sleeve harder and pressed his face to his shoulder. Biting the inside of his lip hard, America stroked England rapidly, knowing he was close. "Eng- Arthur. Arthur, let me see your face."

Whether England was just too lost in the act or too drunk, he didn't immediately react and continued to rub his face against America's shoulder. "Mr. Kirkland, let me see your face!"

Somewhat reluctantly, England turned his face so America had a perfect view of his expression, how flustered he looked... He groaned quietly, tightening his grip. England's hips jerked up and he gripped America's arm so hard it hurt. "A- Alfre- Mm, Doctor Jones!"

With a loud gasp, England came, body shuddering as shivers of pleasure traveled through him. He slumped against America, panting heavily. America's hand continued to stroke him a moment longer then released him. That had been hot enough to get him half hard at least.

America cleared his throat. "S-so, Mr. Kirkland. As I've taken care of your problem maybe you can-"

When America turned his gaze back down to England he saw he was already asleep. He looked at him in disbelief. "Oh come on! You're such an asshole, England!"

England didn't stir and America groaned. Great, he didn't get anything out of this and he was stuck on clean up duty. And didn't England just look smug? He reached over and grabbed his drink, finishing it off. This sucked. He started to undo his pants. Seemed like he'd have to deal with his own problem.

Well, this time England had been drunk. Maybe he'd try it again when he was sober. Until then... He shivered as he touched himself. The Doctor was in.

~End

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><p>Omake<p>

England looked through some papers as he held a sandwich in the other hand. They were on a short lunch break at a world meeting and he would be speaking soon. Just a few more things to look over and he should be ready to go.

Someone suddenly plopped down in the seat beside him. He ignored whoever it was and took a bite of his sandwich. He grimaced then frowned as the chair was dragged closer to his, making a horrible screeching sound. When he glared up at the guilty party he was annoyed (but not surprised) to see that it was America. His attention returned to his papers. "Would you shove off? I'm a little busy."

America leaned in close enough to more than violate his personal bubble, speaking in a whisper. "How are you feeling, Mr. Kirkland? You're not having a fit of the vapors, are you?"

England's head snapped up and the next thing America knew he had a face full of sandwich and had fallen to the floor. England stood above him, glaring sharply. "Do I bloody well look like a hysterical woman to you? Piss off, wanker!"

Grabbing his papers, England stormed off angrily. America remained on the floor wondering why England sucked so much. Oh well, at least he got an only slightly destroyed sandwich out of it.

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><p><strong>Notes:<strong>

To have a 'fit of the vapors' was a reference to having 'female hysteria.' This was once considered to be an actual medical diagnosis that was only found among women. The 'treatment' was put quite well by wikipedia: Since ancient times women considered to be suffering from hysteria would sometimes undergo "pelvic massage" — manual stimulation of the genitals by the doctor until the patient experienced "hysterical paroxysm" (orgasm).

(Other 'treatments' included: bed rest, bland food, seclusion, refraining from mentally taxing tasks (for example, reading) and sensory deprivation.)

Vibrators were invented so that women could treat their hysteria at home instead of going to a doctor.

True. Fucking. Story. Bro.


End file.
